Picture Perfect
by PM Addict
Summary: Katniss is in love. Peeta is in love. Sometimes love isn't enough.
1. Picture Perfect

**Written for Prompts in Panem Round 6 "Peeta's Paint Box" Day 1-red**

_Modern Day AU Everlark. Rated M for sexual content._

—-

She was picture perfect. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing the smooth skin of her shoulders.

Her facial features were highlighted by the subtle touches of make-up. Not that she needed to wear anything. Her beauty was natural and raw and didn't need enhancing.

Her body was covered in silk and lace as the long gown she wore flowed over her curves like water. With the exception of the enormous and gaudy diamond earrings she was forced to wear ( a family heirloom of sorts) she was understated, the epitome of elegance and simplicity, a timeless and unforgettable beauty. Just what a bride should be, graceful and classic, not to mention that she has not taken her eyes off of me all evening.

Now that I hold her in my arms, with a distance between our bodies that is considered appropriate for the company present, I relish in her warmth as I twirl her around the dance floor, committing the scent of her perfume to memory. Never wanting to forget the way she looks tonight.

Nobody knows her like I do. This woman whom I've loved since I was five years old, when she sang in music class and ran away with my heart. This woman who's been my companion throughout the most important moments in life, every milestone, losing parents and loved-ones, growing-up, maturing, committing ourselves to each other-not only our bodies, but our souls as well. I know what makes her tick and what sets her off. I know exactly how to hold her when nightmares plague her sleep. I know when her scowls mean annoyance and when she's amused. I can make her laugh even when she isn't in the mood. I know her favorite color and how she takes her coffee. I know her favorite song and why after all these years, it hasn't changed. I know her dreams and her fears. I know how to make her blush and how to make her flushed. I know when to give her space and when to hold her tight. This and so much more, the list could go on and on. She knows the same thing about me if not more, because she is the most observant person I have ever met, despite her apparent aloofness. I complete her just as much as she makes me whole.

Anyone looking at us dancing at this moment, would think her smiles are due to some humorous anecdote I have chosen to share with her (after all I am considered to be irresistibly charming or so I've been told.) and that the pretty blush that illuminates her cheeks is because of the happiness of such a joyous occasion. Everyone is unaware that not an hour ago, this woman had surrendered herself into the throes of passion, lost in the heat of my kisses, succumbing to the desire that only I can awaken in her. Now, I am not being arrogant or cocky. My confidence comes from years of cherishing this girl, what began as inexperienced awkwardness has developed into deft expertise.

Lured away from the wedding reception to the hotel suite I had prepared earlier, she took advantage of the excitement the hired band had spread amongst the guests, to disappear. All the party traditions had been met, the meal served and eaten, nobody would miss her for half an hour. Nobody would miss me.

She stood in the middle of the suite looking at me as I filled two glasses of champagne. Her scowl expressed guilt while her eyes glowed with lust. But the electricity that runs between our two bodies is palpable, drawing one to the other with a force like gravity, much too strong to fight. She took her glass and turned to walk away as a shiver ran down her back from the finger I slid along her shoulder. I had been wanting to do that since she walked down the aisle.

She nervously sat at the end of the bed taking a long drink to have something to do and avoid making eye-contact with me.

I knew she was upset with me, the way she would refuse to look at me during the meal was clue enough. Then again the daggers she kept shooting at me while I danced with several of the female attendants, weren't exactly very subtle. But isn't that what is expected at weddings? She hates (and has always hated) the amount of female attention that inevitably seemed to surround me. I can't help it, I have always been popular among the ladies. I've been told that it's because I'm charming and I have an enticing smile. Pfft! I don't think I'm charming, I am simply polite. My father raised me that way and not just to women but to anyone who claims my attention. And I don't think I can help the smile, all I do is spread my lips apart and show some teeth. Whether other people are drawn to it or not is just out of my control. The only person I've ever wanted to actually charm is her and she knows it but that doesn't matter.

She's always been jealous, always seeing herself as insignificant and plain. Especially when she compares herself to some of the women that she thinks I "deserve". I must admit, some of the girls that have shown interest have been incredibly beautiful, if I happened to be into the glamorous, high maintenance sort of thing (and for some reason she seems to think that all men are), which I am not. For my part, female attention has always been more of a curse than a blessing if I'm being honest. They say that I am handsome. I wouldn't know about that, either. All I could ever do with my looks is shave and try and keep my annoyingly insipid blond curls under control. Not that I care, actually and I definitely don't care about the women who make themselves available, either.

She has never understood the effect she has on me or the fact that in my eyes the sun rises and sets because of her. She's often asked me why I chose her when I could've had my pick of so many others. Silly girl…silly and adorably impossible stubborn girl. ** I** have never understood what she ever saw in _me_. I'm worthless or so my mother felt eager to point out rather often. But she always saw past all of that: _my_ insecurities, self-doubt, my traumas and excessive baggage. She thinks she doesn't deserve me no matter what she does or how many lives it takes her to do it. She doesn't realize that it's actually the other way around.

I walk towards the bed and kneel in front of her, spreading her knees apart with my hands. She turns to look at me, with apparent objection. She opens her mouth to speak but instead gasps as my hands move up her calf's taking her dress with them.

"We can't! The guests? The party? What abou-"

She couldn't finish her sentence. My hands running along her thighs toward her center make her hiss, crumbling her resolve. She let's go of a breathe she was holding, spreading her legs further apart, giving me direct access. I can't take my eyes off of her. She is so beautiful. I push the expensive looking scrap of lace to the side and let my mouth speak for me as I relish in her sex, making her moan. Between licks and flicks of my tongue, I bring her to completion. It didn't take too long since she has been wound up tight like a coil all day long. The wedding jitters, as well as dealing with that annoying wedding planner in the very yellow wig, and having to fake smiles to all the well-wishing guests (not to mention having to keep an eye on me), she was due a much needed release.

I let her ride out the waves of ecstasy, while I remove my own clothing. She opens her eyes to see me undoing my tie when she stops me. She stands and turns her back to me. Without breaking eye contact, I move to lower the zipper of her dress hidden by a long row of silk covered buttons. I lay the dress across the couch, gently. It wouldn't do to have the bride return to her reception in a rumpled gown.

Taking our time to undress each other between kisses and touches, neither of us speaks. It isn't necessary between two people so attuned. We both know how we feel about the other. I pepper her neck with kisses longing to take my time in tasting every inch of her skin but I don't. We can't risk any type of "bruising" to show up.

_Another time._

I think to myself as I finish removing her lingerie. I reach up towards her hair to remove the veil but she stops me.

"Don't. It was woven into my braid."

She must see the look of confusion in my face when she suddenly drops to her knees, working through my belt and zipper. It isn't until she takes me in her mouth that I realize how wound up I am as well. It's also been a big day for me, filled with emotions and thoughts of just how different things will be as of today.

Overwhelmed by all the sensations that I fail to realize that she's pushed me onto the bed. I let myself get carried away by the whirl of pleasurable craziness when I feel the tingle at the base of my spine that I quickly sit up and grab hold of her elbow, pulling her away from me while catching her mouth with my own in a deep kiss filled with promise.

Without breaking our kiss, we connect. As our bodies meld into one, we ride out the tension and stress and forget everyone and everything, holding on to one another, loving each other. It is when we are together like this that I feel powerful enough to take on the world, to conquer every single foe in this game of life and come out victorious. Nothing matters, just the two of us against any obstacle that may threaten our union. But ecstasy is a strong hallucinogen. It triggers a false sense of hope and makes you feel invincible ready to believe that in life all you really need is love.

I relish in the feel of her skin against my own. I look up at her face and see that she is as lost in me as I am in her. To know that for either of us there will never be anyone else who can make us feel with such intensity. We're soul mates, that much was clear since the beginning of our friendship when we were children.

"I love you."

I whisper in her ear as I tangle my fingers into her hair and pull her down for a kiss. I know she loves me, too. Words aren't her strong suit but despite her awkwardness, she's managed to show me time and time again how deep her feelings run for me. And there is nothing I could possibly deny this woman, even if I tried. I'd give her my own life if she wished. No sacrifice could be too grand if her well-being was at stake. I love her too much to ever stand in her way or hold her back. When it comes to her, I will do what is needed…._always._

Even if that means giving her up.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, but no matter how tight my embrace it is never close enough. I almost wish I could pull her under my skin and never have to let her go. A little obsessive, very dependent, I don't know. All I understand is that I need her like I need air to breathe. But time isn't ours, and the bride is expected downstairs to make her rounds before the honeymoon getaway, even if my presence can go overlooked.

What we began slow and sweet is now fast and hard. Our skin slides against the other, slick from the exertion. As I look up at her, I am in awe of how incredibly beautiful she looks in such a raw moment. Her screams of pleasure are bounding off the walls and branding themselves in my soul. We reach for the stars together and in each other's arms find our way back to solid ground.

"I love you." She says, as she lies over my chest, exhausted and out of breath. "I will always, love you!"

A tear rolls down her cheek, while others threaten to spill.

"Hey, hey, hey," I say. "…none of that. This is a happy day and a blotchy bride will not do!"

She chuckles but in her eyes there is an emotion I am sure would mirror my own if I wasn't so adept at keeping a neutral mask.

We clean up and dress once more. It takes her a bit longer. Why bridal gowns are so complicated is beyond me. When we are ready to leave the suite, she looks refreshed and radiant. Not a hair out of place. I give her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

We enter the ballroom separately as to not arouse any sort of suspicion. The party continues as if our absence never occurred.

And we find ourselves in the middle of a dance enjoying each other's company, when the band leader announces it is time for the bride and groom to leave. People turn and clap and I smile at the beautiful woman in my arms. She looks at me with despair in her eyes. I know she's afraid. This next adventure is a big one and all I can do to comfort her at the moment is kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear.

"You'll be alright."

Her husband walks up to us and asks for her hand as I take a step back.

"Peeta…" she turns to me.

I chuckle to play off her nerves for not wanting to let me go. I turn to her husband as I give her a friendly hug.

"She's nervous. My little girl is having separation anxiety, this will be our first time apart. Be gentle."

He laughs taking her in his arms. She offers him a weak smile and turns to me mouthing "_good-bye."_

"Katniss" I call out to her as she turns to leave. "Bring me back a souvenir. I'll be here when you return. Always."

Her eyes tear up at the sound of our promise. _Always_.

I give her the biggest smile I could muster and wave to the _happy_ couple as the rest of the guests clap or blow bubbles.

I'd like to say my heart is breaking as I see the groom's car pull away but that would be impossible. I don't have a heart, she took that with her.

Katniss was the most beautiful bride I have ever seen or ever will see. The thing is, she isn't _my_ bride.

If love was enough to make the world go round, then it would be me driving away with her in that car. We tried, time and time again we tried, but reality set out to prove that we could not be. It's not that we didn't function as a couple, it actually isn't even about _us_. Yet, too many things, too many people, too many situations are keeping us apart.

I'm not saying that giving her up was the easiest thing I've ever done. When things started to turn in this direction I was angry and hurt and disappointed in myself for not being able to give Katniss everything and anything she needed. God only knows how may times I've wanted to punch her husband's stupid smirk off his face. The arrogant bastard. That idiot doesn't deserve her, even though he is potentially what's best for her, now. I know (because subtle about his feelings he is not, and oblivious to his hidden messages _I_ am not, another gift for which I should thank my abusive mother), that he wishes I wasn't around, even though he thinks I am the brother she never had and always wanted. There is something about him that I don't really trust and there's a manipulative vibe that keeps coming off of him. Katniss never picked up on it, but if he had his way with all the wedding planning what is she to expect on a more intimate, everyday level? Not that it matters, she will always have me in the wings to fend for her.

In the meantime I have the satisfaction of knowing that his wedding night was mine, that his wife was and always will be _mine_ and that what happened earlier will probably happen again no matter how much Katniss tries to deny herself. She needs me as much as I need her and although it is not an ideal situation and I hate that our love story is reduced to me being the other person, I have to trust our love. I have to trust her and I have to believe that she will always find her way back to me, and sadly remind myself that we're star-crossed lovers, soul mates, destined to fight their way back to bliss.

I hate having to let her go. I see red knowing that even though she will work her way around him tonight, she will eventually be in his arms. She should be with me. But she can't. So today, as her best friend that I technically am, I swallowed my pride, held back my anger, reigned in my love and walked down the aisle to give _my Katniss_ away to another man.


	2. It's A Small, Cruel World

They make promises they intend to keep, but sometimes life has other plans.

Written for Prompts In Panem, Round 6 Peeta's Pain Box, days 3 and 4-orange and yellow.

_Modern Day AU Everlark. Rated M for sexual content._

—-

_Two children running around, jumping in puddles and laughing in the rain, looking up to the sky, enjoying the late summer shower._

_The world doesn't extend farther than their homes, but life is still glorious and holds abundant promise. All they need is a little imagination and a lot of faith._

_"One day, I'm going to marry you, Katniss Everdeen."_

_She looks confused._

_"What's marry?"_

_Now he looks confused._

_"I don't know." He answers shrugging. "They said it on TV and then they kissed."_

_She gasps in shock. "Eewww!"_

_She looks disgusted. _

_"If you kiss me, I'll sock you, Peeta!"_

_And she waves a fist in his face._

_He laughs uncontrollably and splashes into the puddle next to her._

_"You look like Lucy from the Charlie Brown cartoons."_

_Both children laugh together and continue their games in the rain as a ray of sun breaks through the clouds._

"Oh, God! Why are we here and why'd you make us dress this way?"

Katniss turns to me, fidgeting and pulling on her dress. She's dressed in a soft yellow flowy shift that makes her look as radiant as the sun.

I laugh. She looks absolutely adorable when she's nervous like this.

"Because in these places the nicer you look, the better service you get and I'm going for VIP if someone else is footing the bill."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Besides, you told me _you_ wanted to get this over with before _anyone_ else felt the need to add their two cents. Now come on, we're going to be late!"

I take her hand and pull her with me into the swanky bridal shop.

And my theory turns out to be true. I'll have to thank my brother for letting me borrow his designer sports jacket, allowing me to look high end. I smile at Katniss' exasperation as a sales lady takes her into the fitting room with a rack full of dresses. I lean back in the very comfortable love seat of the private viewing room while sipping on a glass of champagne. _VIP_ all the way.

But once all the catering to my whims has been met by the other employees of the _boutique_ and I know I have been left alone, I drop the mask I've been wearing since I picked Katniss up. I love spending time with her, but playing the role of the doting fiancé is excruciating, making this afternoon feel long and tedious, since the _date_ began with lunch. We'd decided to make a day of it since we both took the time off of work to get this _errand_ done

She's right though, what are we doing here? Why are we in this situation? How did we let it get this far?

I'm lost in thought, staring at the bridal shoe in my hand when she clears her throat.

I look up at her and fight to hold back my laughter.

"You look lovely." Is all I can muster without exploding. I try to smile.

She's scowling at me. The sales assistant is in the room with us so Katniss smiles pleasantly at me while giving me her middle finger with the hand the lady cannot see.

In all honesty, the dress she's wearing is probably not all that bad. It just isn't Katniss. Way over the top beading (the sales lady points out the _beading_ is all done in Swarovski crystals. Am I supposed to know what that means?) on the bodice and skirt that is much too full with layers and layers of tulle. She looks like she belongs on the top tier of a wedding cake.

"Well? What do you think?" She asks me smirking, clearly baiting me.

But I don't bite. I clear my throat and try to give the sales lady my most charming smile.

"I think you look beautiful in anything you wear. That gown is absolutely stunning but it is the first one, why don't we see more?"

She scowls at me and flips me off, again. Gees, I want to laugh so badly.

She turns around to leave in what I can only assume is walking away but she looks like she's stepping on hot coals.

"What's wrong with your feet?"

She tries to lift the puffy skirt kicking out one of her feet to reveal the most hideous pair of ridiculously high heeled platforms I have ever seen.

"Ahhh."

She huffs away. I guess it's because of her small stature that they made her walk out in stilts. I can't contain myself anymore and I laugh. It feels good to laugh once in a while. I remember a time when all we did was laugh. I love the sound of her laughter, she has the most beautiful voice. Who am I kidding, there is nothing about this woman I don't love, even that scowl that she thinks is so intimidating that I find so endearing. Sure she is the strong and fearsome tigress, but she's also my soft little kitten that likes to cuddle in my arms all the time.

I love her, I love her so much it hurts. It's a pain that makes me feel empty and desperate and scared and I don't think I have ever been so scared in my whole life. I even have nightmares now, the kind that used to terrorize me after my father died all those years ago. Dreams in which I lose her and no matter how hard I try, I can't save her, I can't find her, I can't have her.

She walks out again with another dress. Then another. It's a long parade of dresses. Each look trying to be different from the one before. Full ruffled skirts, heavy looking embroidery, ostentatious beading, mermaids, princesses, Grecian and modern. One shoulder, strapless, sleeveless, long sleeve, illusion and sweetheart, scoop and plunging, train or no-train? So, so many options. How do women not go crazy doing this? They were all beautiful gowns, with exorbitant price tags. I have a headache just from sitting here amongst a never ending sea of white fluffiness and tulle.

With every new outfit, I can see her patience flounder. Katniss has never been too affected by fashion. Sure she likes to look good and every now and then she would go out and indulge, but always true to herself. She's never had the inclination for all the glitters. She doesn't know about designers or the latest trends and doesn't care about labels or the season's must-haves. That's why everything she's walked out in is so unsatisfactory. It's either too long, or too wide, too heavy, too frilly, not right. That and the fact that her heart just isn't into this.

I try to keep a positive attitude for her sake but its very hard to keep someone else afloat when you, yourself are drowning. And the same question keeps coming up in my mind, _why am **I** here?_

_Because I'm a masochistic asshole, that's why._

And because there is nothing I can deny her. What could she possibly ask of me that I wouldn't happily give? Nothing. I'm not complaining, I'm not. I'd run around the world for her, twice. And I'd do it because I love her. Besides, it's important to try and enjoy these last few moments of her life as a single and free woman. Only Katniss has never been free. She has always been prisoner to the circumstances in her life. If it wasn't dealing with her mother's problems, it was trying to make up for her father's death with her little sister. Then it all became about putting herself through college, trying to make up for what her scholarships and grants didn't cover. Sometimes working two jobs and staying up all night studying to keep up her G.P.A.

Life hasn't been easy for her, I would know. I held her hand through the most difficult moments, encouraged her when the burden was just too heavy for her to carry alone. Even tried to help lift it without her knowledge, because she's a proud woman and would have never allowed my help. She would talk about _my sacrifices_ and _her debt_ to me. There's never been any debt to deal with at least not in my part.

For a while I had it easier than she did. After my father died and my eldest brother was left in charge, he would supply funds from our father's inheritance. It wasn't a fortune, just enough to cover the studies of all three son's, after all, that was its purpose. But after mother caught wind that Katniss was in my life, she cut me off. She set several ultimatums that I refused so she disinherited me. She was sneaky enough about it and waited until my brother got married and moved away to a different state leaving her in charge again. When Katniss found out, she was torn. She offered to talk to my mother, offering to walk away from my life in order to keep me in her graces. I wouldn't hear of it. I didn't need my mother or the money that she actually couldn't touch. All my mother was given by my father was her house. What he didn't do in life to protect his children from his wife's abuses, he did in death by leaving her out of his business and his funds. Ergo another reason to hate me.

So I used the money my brother had been able to give me to help Katniss every chance I could without her finding out about it. I only set a little bit apart, to which I added once I began working as a full-time adult, to buy her an engagement ring someday.

She was so ready to give me up when she thought it might be what was best for me. _She's _what's best for me, she makes me happy, she makes me want to be a better man, for her.

Because I love her.

I LOVE HER.

Why can't love be enough sometimes? I don't have answers to so many questions. I don't have solutions. I don't have options. I feel like a caged animal and I need an out. There has to be something we could try, someone we could call, anyone, anything that could be the salvation to our desperation.

A little ray of hope. A little sunshine to break through the gloom.

"Peeta?"

Her soft voice breaks through my reverie. I look up to her and am stunned into silence. I'm sure my mouth is hanging open from the awe. I just hope I'm not humiliating myself by drooling as well.

Katniss is a vision in silk and lace. She's dressed in a form fitting gown that seemed to flare at her knees. Her braid had been twisted into a knot at the side of her head from which a silky looking veil flowed onto her back.

She looked beautiful. Heart-breakingly beautiful.

"Well?" She smiled at me.

I opened my mouth to try and speak but somehow I couldn't form the words. I felt tears sting my eyes. She turned to the sales lady to ask for a minute alone. She was gracious enough to offer all the time we needed.

She walked over and crouched in front of me.

"Peeta-"

"I always dreamed you'd be my bride. I'd see you walking down the aisle towards _me_ looking just like you do now. The dress is perfect. You look so beautiful."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she wiped mine off my cheeks. I hadn't realized I was crying. I felt ashamed and lowered my head. I can't be doing this to her. She needs my strength, not my weakness.

"Hey…"

She took my chin in her hand to lift my head and look at her.

"And I always dreamed I'd be your wife, even when we were kids and I threatened to sock you if you kissed me."

I chuckled. I remembered that.

"I want to be _your_ wife, a_ real_ wife. I want to take care of you, and love you and grow old with you. I want to be the mother of your children and only _your_ children. I love you, Peeta. I love you and I will always love you. And I hate myself for hurting you and putting you through this and still drag you through all this wedding planning."

I reached for a tissue to wipe my nose.

"But I need you to be strong for me. It's asking for a lot I know, and that makes me the most despicable human on Earth, but Peeta you're my rock. And if I don't have you to lean on, I know I'll crumble, won't be able to see this through."

We stare at each other for what seemed like an endless moment.

"I'm sorry Katniss. I promise I-"

She pressed her lips to mine. Soft and warm and so full of love that my tears don't stop falling as I pull her into my lap. It was a kiss full of promise, a promise to always remain together.

I rest my forehead against hers, struggling to catch a breath.

"But I am sorry. I know you need me and I know this is as hard for you as it is for me, but I can't help it Katniss. I love you."

She takes mey face in both her hands as I try to reign in my sobbing.

"And I love you too! Now help me out of this thing."

She stands as I pull down the zipper.

"This is a very beautiful gown. Are you going to chose this one?"

She turns to look at me.

"Do you really like it? It's my favorite one as well."

She smiles while looking down at the gown.

"You look beautiful."

When the sales lady returns, Katniss is just stepping out of the fitting room asking if she's made up her mind.

"Yes, I'll take the off-the-shoulder, with the tiered skirt."

The sales lady looks confused.

"I'm sorry. It's just that your fiancé looked so taken with this last one, I just thought- never mind. Forgive me-I'll get started on your alteration order." She leaves.

"That's exactly why." Katniss mutters to herself, but I heard her.

I finish the rest of my third glass of champagne and move to stand but she stops me by sitting on my lap.

"Are you okay?"

I look into her clear gray eyes.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. That won't happen again, I just…"

I had to stop to take a deep breath.

"I feel like I'm losing you Kat and my heart hurts because even though you're here in my arms, I miss you. I miss us."

She kisses me again.

"Never! You will never ever lose me. I'm yours and you're mine until one of us is dead and maybe even after that."

I can't help but chuckle.

"Hey? I'm serious. You and me together, forever, always. And he won't be able to keep us apart, I won't let him. I promise, okay?"

"Okay" I answer looking into her eyes.

"Promise?"

I nod.

"Always."

And then she hugs me.

_"You and me together, forever, always. And he won't be able to keep us apart, I won't let him. I promise, okay?"_

Whatever.

I sit in this bar for what seems like the fourth time this week. Last week was no different, nor the week before that, or the one before that, and so on.

This is pathetic. I'm pathetic. I promised myself I wouldn't fall into a depressive state but I guess that is out of my control. Because here I am, sitting in this lonely bar, in a dark little corner, nursing a beer, trying to distract myself from all the pain, all the emptiness.

I'm lonely, lonelier than I have ever felt in my entire life (and growing up in my household, that's really saying something).

I just….miss her. I miss her so much it hurts. It hurts so much that I find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. I don't smile anymore. Food tastes like ash, so I don't eat. I stopped working out (well, except for my walks here). I'm sure I've lost some weight (my clothes seem to fit a lot looser). Sleep brings no solace but the exact opposite. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares begin and I wake up to find myself drenched in sweat. The dark circles under my eyes must make me look like some sort of addict. In short, I look like shit. My brother is worried. He thinks it's been enough time to wallow. Says if it's too soon to move on, I should at least pick myself up.

It's been a month. And I miss her.

That's why I'm sitting here now. At least this place doesn't hold any memories that could drown me. Not like almost every other spot in this city, like my apartment, my kitchen, my bed. Gees, even my family's bakery is clouded with memories of her.

I always sit in the same spot, and drink the same beer. The bartender considers me a regular now. She even knows my name because it's on my credit card. As soon as I walk in, she slides my drink over. I think I might even have a tab.

The Hob. It's a comfortable sort of place, somewhat of a hole in the wall, but not exactly a dive. Too small to be the hip watering hole, too far from any campus to be the local hangout and to insignificant to be a favorite among the business elite. There is karaoke on Saturday nights (I leave before it starts), and from what I've overheard the appetizers are quite good. But for the most part it's just locals coming in for a quick drink or strays like me hoping to hide out.

That is why_ she_ stands out so much, looking refined and expensive, sitting among the strays and the lonely. I noticed her a while back. She's like me, speaks to no one, looks at nothing and just hides. Yet, every now and then I've seen wipe her eyes. We all have shit to deal with.

Not that I stare at her all the time. I don't exactly stare but I have noticed.

She's slight and blonde with pale skin. Maybe that's why she doesn't quite manage to hide as she seems to wish she could. She slightly reminds me of my mother. That woman had been beautiful once (I've seen her pictures), before bitterness and frustration contorted her looks. But my mother is an uncomfortable story for another time.

It was during one of those random occasions in which we both coincided that I felt the urge to be nice. Not because I was interested or wanted to start a conversation. She had been crying earlier. I looked and saw there was no ring on her finger. I wonder if she was going through the same thing as me? I was intrigued.

She looked lonely. I was lonely. I could empathize.

I had the bartender take her another of whatever she was drinking and add to my tab. She looked up at me as Johanna. the bartender explained the origin of the drink. I wish she hadn't done that. The girl's eyes were blue, much lighter than mine. She tried to smile, I didn't. I simply nod in her direction and went back to studying the veins on the wooden bar top.

I didn't realize anyone was standing next to me until she spoke thanking me for her drink.

I turned to look at her and I have to admit I was stunned. To say this girl is beautiful would be an understatement. Her face looked clear of cosmetics except for the red lipstick she wore. But what do I know about make-up. And her hair framed her face in soft waves cascading along her cheeks. She reminded me of the starlets from the 40s. Yes, she was beautiful, but her red rimmed, puffy eyes revealed a sadness that ran deep.

"I just wanted to thank you for the drink. It was a nice gesture. I needed a nice gesture today. Thanks." She semi-smiled and turned to walk away. She wasn't interested, either. She was just being polite.

But, I am a man. I looked at her walk away and I noticed that her beauty was not limited only to her face. She had a beautiful body wrapped in a flattering pencil skirt and a soft silk blouse.

"Want her name, blondie?" Johanna snickered waving what I assumed was the blonde's card receipt.

"No." I looked away. Had I been that obvious in my observations as the woman walked away from me? The sway of her hips might otherwise be enticing, had I been on the prowl, but I didn't follow her out. I'm not looking for a hook-up or her number. It's only been a month.

A whole month.

I haven't seen Katniss or spoken with her since I kissed her good bye in the middle of that dance floor. She hasn't had the decency of giving me a proper phone call. During her trip I got a couple of quick texts. Then a couple more after they returned. I don't even want to think about what's keeping her so _busy_ to be able to talk to me. It's like she's shutting me out of her new life. It seems like her new husband is getting his wish. I wonder if he's taken to checking her phone?

I was supposed to pick them up from the airport when they returned. He made other arrangements. Asshole.

I'm slowly losing hope. Katniss used to be that hope for me, a dream of a better tomorrow. The irrational idea that even though I had a shitty childhood and horrible mother who constantly made me feel worthless, I might have a bright future with Katniss because to me she was the sun, she was life, she was hope.

What are you supposed to do when you lose hope?

_"You and me together, forever, always. And he won't be able to keep us apart, I won't let him. I promise, okay?"_

Whatever.

Whatever.

WHATEVER.

"Peeta? Peeta?"

I hadn't realized I drifted off into my daydreams again, thus ignoring my drinking companion, Margaret Undersee or Madge as she liked to be called.

After that first drink I sent her, we began a game of back and forth. Never really acknowledging each other but taking the time for the polite gesture. It was easier this way. The old Peeta would never stand for this. He'd have started a conversation by now as nice as he was. He'd have learned her name and what she does besides coming into the bar. Me on the other hand, this new bitter and desolate Peeta, can't seem to snap out of the slump I've been in since Katniss got married, because I can't seem to digest how different my life is.

One evening Madge just walked into the bar and instead of taking her usual spot, came over to the seat next to mine and introduced herself. We became acquainted over a bowl of peanuts and beer (turns out she prefers beer over hard liquor).

We talked about anything. The latest news, the weather, the appetizers that neither has tried, even the game on the tube. She hated sports she confessed on night. But she made good conversation. I even took to smiling every now and then. Anything was good, except the giant elephant in the room.

She's a nice girl. Although I don't know what she does, I know that she comes in here after work. She's also shy. As the daughter of an ex-senator, she always had a hard time making friends. Did I mention that she's the clumsiest person I've ever met? She's graceful and poised but she can't eat a thing without it winding up on herself. Like today when the peanuts fall into the plunging v-neck of the fitted sweater she was wearing. She has to dig in deep to reach them all the while pulling her top even lower, revealing most of the lacy bra as well as the tops of her robust breasts. She has amazing breasts. I've noticed.

I'm lonely. She is lonely. There is nothing romantic about our interactions. There is no flirting or innuendos. When she does things like this, pulling her hand into her shirt, she doesn't do it on purpose. When she realized how much she was exposing herself, she flushed and turned away from me. I wanted to laugh.

There is only comfortable companionship between us, a way to pass the time. We understand each other, because we've lost our significant others.

"Earth to Peeta…"

She waves her hand in front of my face.

"I'm sorry, I got lost in thought. You were saying?"

She nodded.

"I asked for your thoughts…about what I said?"

I feel like a fool. An ugly grimace on my face.

"About what?"

She sighed.

"About coming with me. To the gala tonight."

That's right. Her father was hosting a fund-raising gala for his political party. Everybody who is anybody will be there tonight. No thank you. Especially not something that required me in a tux.

"Ummm…"

"I know, I know, you don't date. I don't either. It wouldn't be like that. You don't need to buy me dinner, or pick me up. All I'd really like is have someone to talk to so I don't get cornered by boring politicians. Especially those looking for side game."

"Ugh!" I grimaced.

She laughed. "I know."

But she must've seen something in my face.

"I knew it was a long shot. I tried." she shrugged. "Besides I thought I'd offer the distraction, since it will be held at the Museum of Art. I know some days are worse than others."

That left me speechless. I turn to look at her. She gave me a sympathetic smile. I took her hand closest to me and give it a light kiss.

"Thank you. I don't deserve your friendship. Maybe next time. Hopefully by them I've gotten my head out of my ass enough to be decent companionship."

She laughed.

"Peeta, your head isn't in your ass. It's still stuck in your heart. I'll see you later."

I watch her leave. I like to see her leave. The way her short skirt sashayed around her thighs, highlighting the toned muscle. She has incredible legs.

I am not attracted to Madge. I don't have sexual fantasies about her. I don't even have the urge to kiss her. But I am a man, a lonely one, and I can't help but notice her amazing body. She looks slight but she's curvy all the way and a very sharp dresser. Her outfits always seem to accentuate her curves, like today. The skin of her breasts looked so soft and seemed to glow when she blushed. I don't want to kiss her lips but I wouldn't mind touching her breasts. I think I like her breasts.

That night when I'm finally able to fall asleep, I dream of Katniss. I hear her laugh, I hear her sing to me. Only to me. As she is wrapping her legs around my waist, stradling me, riding me. Her hands caress my face. I feel happy. I feel whole. I have hope again. My love's come home.

She's laughing again.

"_Oh Peeta, you're so naïve. Did you really think I would come back to you when I had him?"_

My screams wake me up. I'm drenched in sweat. I check my alarm and notice it's ten minutes to five. Might as well start my day, no use trying to sleep anymore.

While I'm in the shower I cry surprising even myself. I haven't cried in weeks. What did that dream mean? I know I shouldn't but I'm starting to think that maybe Katniss' feelings weren't as real as she promised they were.

What do you do when you've lost faith in the person you love the most?

I'm sitting at the bar, thinking about Madge. I wonder how her night went on her own. But I don't feel guilty. She belongs to a world of fancy parties and designer clothes and getting her picture taken for Sunday's social page on a regular basis. That's one of the reasons she hangs out here at The Hob. Nobody notices or cares who she is or isn't for that matter. If I had shown up with her last night, my picture would be everywhere as the socialite's potential new suitor. I don't want to deal with that. I'm done pretending to be someone's significant other. Besides, my mother would love that and I don't want to give her a reason to speak to me again.

Madge.

Katniss.

Madge.

For some reason I can't put my finger on, in my mind Katniss and Madge don't co-exist well together. Nor would they ever have to, given that Katniss has taken to ignoring my existence.

I have to make it up to Madge somehow. Maybe I should order those appetizers. Better yet, we should have dinner somewhere, anywhere, or lunch or brunch this coming Sunday. I don't know something outside this bar. Do things friends do, like baseball games or bowling. I don't care. I'm tired of hurting. I want to have friends again. I want to find hope.

I'm not falling in love with Madge. That much is clear to me. I know what love feels like. I don't have that for her. I don't even feel lust for her, not really, even though my eyes are drawn to her body. I don't touch myself thinking about her breasts or her strong legs wrapped around me. I've tried to imagine tasting her lips or how warm and wet she'd feel wrapped around me, taking her and losing myself in her curves. I've tried and tried and tried. My body has no reaction. There are times I close my eyes and force myself to see my lips wrap around a nipple, suckling biting while my hand kneads her other breast with determination. Every single time I turn up to look into her blue eyes it's Katniss looking down at me, panting, hands tangled in my hair, urging me to go on and I'm immediately hard.

Katniss.

Katniss.

Katniss.

For some reason and more than every day for the past two months, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like she's so close to me I can practically touch her.

Madge storms into the bar and turns to me. Her eyes are swollen and blotchy and she looks desperate. She turns and storms out.

I ask Johanna, to add my drinks to my tab.

"Sure, blondie." And winks at me.

I walk out of the bar looking for her and she's there against the wall squatting down with her face in here hands.

I get worried.

"Madge what's wrong?"

She stands up.

"Let's go sit down."

She leads me to her car and opens the hatch of her SUV taking a seat in the back. I sit next to her.

She dangles her feet off the edge and starts crying again.

She looks like a child fragile and helpless.

"I had a bad feeling about last night. That's why I sounded so desperate when I asked you to join me. It was an important fundraiser. Anyone with ambition and aspirations would be there, it was their chance to hobnob with the deal makers, you know…"

I nod.

"I tried to get out of it. I swear I tried. I should learn to follow my instincts. But my father wouldn't hear of it. He said that since my mother was gone, it was my duty to stand as hostess. I really hate my privilege"

"O.K." I listened patiently.

"The night was going as was to be expected. A lot of hello's, fake smiles, insincere compliments, leers from both the mayor _and_ his assistant. Did you know the asshole of the assistant has a baby on the way and had the nerve to proposition me?"

I clenched my jaw as both guilt and anger came over me. If I had been there for her, I could've kept the pigs at bay.

"Easy. Don't worry about me. I know how to deal with men like that. I'm a black belt in Karate. My mother thought it was a good idea when she saw one of my father's high school interns try to grab my ass when I was 14!"

I chuckled. She was full of surprises.

"But I would take a dozen Gloss' over and over if I never had to see him again."

She starts crying again and I wish I didn't but I have to ask.

"Him?"

"My ex-fiancé and his brand new wife."

I felt myself go cold. So I did something unexpected, I stood up and put my arms around her, letting her cry unto my chest.

"And she's beautiful, I mean. How could she not, he would take nothing less than a trophy on his arm. And she looks radiant…."

She hesitates for a moment.

"What?"

"Although it's like she's not all there, you know? She seemed distant, almost bored. She avoided eye contact with most people, including him. And when she did look at him, I didn't see the face of a newlywed. It looked more like disdain."

She looked up at me.

"I'm overthinking it, right? I'm trying to make excuses and find faults with her in order to hate her, right? But you know what I don't."

"No?"

She shook her head. "At one point I ran into the bathroom so I wouldn't lose it in public. She walked in. She gave a tissue and smiled, a very kind smile. She said, _'I know the feeling_.' and patted my hand. Our interaction was warmer than any she had with him at least."

I let her go and take my spot next to her.

She was looking at me while lost in thought. Probably remembering something about last night.

"I don't get it," I told her. "Why would _he_ show up to _your_ father's gala if he broke your heart? How would he even be on the guest list?"

Then she shook her head. "Of course he was going to be there, Peeta. Election year is coming up. That's why he rushed his wedding as well. He needed to present himself as a respectable family man. I wouldn't doubt he's already pressuring her to get pregnant. That's why we broke-up. I wanted to wait to have children. I thought we should enjoy each other as a couple first, travel, set up house. Enjoy our careers. Believe it or not, I have worked very hard for my position."

She shakes her head.

"But that wouldn't do for the new assistant District Attorney. He needed to have the picket fence and the dog and the…."

Madge's voice drifted away as her words ran through my mind over and over…

_Assistant District Attorney_.

"…represent family values. Show that we have morals and principal and uphold justice a-"

"Madge!"

I interrupted her rambling.

"Who are you talking about?"

She huffed almost looked annoyed.

"Pay attention Peeta! I'm talking about my ex. Gale Hawthorne and his new bride, Katniss!"


End file.
